All That I Have Left
by The name's Sherlock Holmes
Summary: Norman doesn't have anything else to rely on but the rain.


The rain dropped down onto his jacket. It poured down in a manner that made it seem like it was made for him, and the accusatory eyes of the passer-bys just silently judged. The cold was the only thing he could count on being there day after day anymore. He didn't have anything left but the rain and the solitary. It wasn't the drugs, his family issues, or anything else that made it hard to handle. It was the way it happened. He'd said some pretty harsh things to his parents before leaving, and he'd never given his friends any chance. He was hopeless and abandoned.

'I don't get my purpose anymore. Why don't I just quit now? I have Tripto in my pocket. Right now, I can just end it all. I'm no different than the people walking past me. I'm worse than them. They have families, and my family is gone. And I have no one left to rely on. I don't need a drug, I don't even need anyone to love. I just need something to rely on. And Tripto just happens to be there when I need it.'

He sat himself against a building and mentally collapsed, putting his face into his palms and contemplating his life at hand. What the hell am I doing here, In the FBI? I don't even remember why I joined the place anymore. To fight crime? To make the world a better place? Why? The world would never be a better place. There will always be someone out there who'll need to be stopped. There's no point anymore. I don't belong here. But the thing is, I don't know where I do.

'One day, Norman. One day. One day you'll step up your game. Be better than you or anyone else can be. But for now you just need to accept your flaws, embrace them. Because you know what? You might as well. Because they won't go away. And the best you can do is keep them like your best friend. I wish I wasn't a horrible asshole, though. That'd be nice too.'

I just want to be in control of my own thought process again. The addiction, and... everything... is making it hard to concentrate. I used to be better than this. What happened to me? In the eyes of everyone else, I'm probably just a freak. At least I was in High School. But who cares what people think? It's not true. Just...

It's like the good side and bad side of his head were playing tug of war together, making his thoughts a cluster of reassuring and pressuring emotions cloud his thoughts.

"I'm going to be in control. Tired of everyone deciding if they can control me or not. Time to stick up for myself, since no one else can. He looked up from his palms to see a familiar face.

"H-hey! Norman! Is that you?" The cheery and bubbly voice of his old College partner called out to him. She ran up to him and put on a smile.

"Hey, Jess." He twiddled with his thumbs, unable to think of another reply.

"I hadn't seen you since College! I think you were going out to be an FBI agent last time I saw you, how'd that work out?" She asked, still keeping on her cheery and reassuring smile.

"I got the job, but it didn't work out the way I planned." He muttered the last part of his sentence and sighed.

"Well you're sitting out in the rain, how 'bout you come with me for some dinner? To catch up?" She gestured for him to stand up, and he proudly accepted the offer.

They arrived at the cheap Chinese restaurant and took a seat. It might not be much, but it's food. And he doesn't really remember the last time he'd eaten.

"So, what have you been doing after getting out of College?" She propped her elbow up on the table, just having half the cheery face he'd remembered back at school.

He really hated being interrogated, or questioned at all. Though how hypocritical. "I joined the FBI, did a few cases, and it ended up not being as great as I thought it would." Yeah, it may have it's flaws, but it's fine. Way to under exaggerate, Norman.

"So, what have to been doing since College, Norman?" She still had that beautiful spark in her eyes. I wish I still had some innocence left. She only looked half as cheery as the girl he knew in college.

"I joined the FBI, and solved a few cases. But it didn't turn to be what I thought it would." Yeah, you got hooked on some drugs, and got some Men in Black sunglasses. Nothing big. Way to under exaggerate, Norman.

"What do you mean, it didn't turn out the way you planned?"

_Perfect time to go through withdrawal, isn't it?_

His vision faded in and out, and he stood up, having to prop himself up on a table.

"Norman, you alright?" She stood up, holding him up, thinking things would be fine and dandy if he could just stand up.

"Y-yeah, hey. I need your help. My medicine, for this situation, is in my left jacket pocket. I'd grab it, but I'm not in the right shape to do it. Can you grab it, please?" That medicine, was his handy Tripto.

"Yeah, yeah. Sure. Anything to help." She went to grab it, but he grabbed her hand before she could.

"Not here, outside." He slowly walked, or well, wobbled out the door with her help. She propped him up against the restaurant, and grabbed his _medicine_.

In within an instant, he took it. "Um. Hang on." He regained his energy slightly, to move around the corner. He unscrewed the cap and breath in it's intoxicating contents.

_And it made everything better again._

"Is that what you meant by it didn't go how you expected it, Norman?" Her cheery and naive turned brutally serious.

"Huh?" He turned to her, looking down at his shirt. Apparently he'd gotten a nosebleed.

"When'd you become a druggie? And where can I get advanced drugs like yours? FBI protocol to take those, Norman?" _So she was a reporter._

He stumbled onto the ground, looking down at the floor, an down at his life.

"Why'd you do it, Norman? Why did you start taking drugs?"

"It's all that I have left anymore." He put a hand on his forehead.

"You could have anything you want. Why take this?"

He sighed, letting the whole truth slip out, no matter how fake it may sound. "Because it's the only thing I can rely on."

"You can rely on me." She sat down next to him, feeling pretty guilty for the things she had said.

"I hope so..." He sighed.

For the first time in years, he had something.

For the first time in months, he had something to look forward to.

For the first time in decades, he had something to rely on.

**Hope.**


End file.
